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The air hung
damp and silent
between the megaliths

echoes of
past footprints
on the walkway,
cracked with age

cloaked in shadow, only
a column of light reaching
from above,
given motion
by passing mist

A god
carved above the altar
an image of the river,
carrying water from the mountains;
a tiger,
motionless, one mile
up, along the cliff ledge,
between two trees,
eclipsed by clouds

the solemn
procession, mourning,
walked along the path
circling the overlook
the sun sinking
behind the mountain

The birds rising
from the canopy
quetzal, attila,
as we gather water
in the coming rains